While we were away last weekend I thought of another person-to-memory correlation:

Blowing my nose with a piece of toilet paper makes me think of my best friend from grade 5, LW.

LW and I were the two shortest girls in the class, and in grade 5 we were completely inseparable. We sat together in class, spent recess and lunch together, did all our projects and homework together, and even slept over at each others’ houses most weekends. She taught me about perms and deodorant (Soft ‘n’ Dry); I taught her the thrill of crank calling boys we liked. Good times.

In grade 6, LW moved away to Stratford, Ontario, about an hour’s drive up the highway. We kept in touch through letters and phone calls, and I went for a couple of sleepover weekends that year. One time when I was sleeping over in Stratford, I got up in the morning and as part of my primping routine, I blew my nose using a piece of toilet paper. It was a piece about 5 or 6 squares long, and afterwards I waddled it up in a ball and threw it in the trash can.

A couple of hours later I was summoned to a powwow in the living room with Mrs. W, along with LW and her younger sister and brother. Mrs. W was hopping mad. She’d found a “clean, unused” piece of toilet paper in the trash and was furious that one of us could be so wantonly wasteful as to tear off a piece and viciously throw it away. It was evil to be so careless, it was insulting to her, and when she asked us who did it, we were NOT TO LIE, because Satan reserved a special place in hell for liars. If no one came forward, we were all to use our own pocket money to buy her a new roll each…”Even Lynn?” “EVEN LYNN.”

I was totally terrified. On one hand, the piece in question — now being waved before our noses — appeared to match the description of a certain piece I knew well. But on the other hand, how could Mrs. W fail to notice a certain dampness, and nostril-shaped pattern, that would indicate that this piece was actually not clean and unused? Should I confess? But what if this was an unrelated, separate piece of toilet paper that had nothing to do with my nose blowing? Very confusing for an 11-year-old.

Soon Mrs. W, in the full throws of persecution, started centering her accusations on LW’s 7-year-old brother, demanding to know if he did it, and screaming at him not to lie. I felt worse and worse and eventually I put my hand up and nervously admitted that I had used a piece to blow my nose. Mrs. W took a moment to say, “Well, I guess that would be alright,” before resuming the interrogation of poor little brother. Relieved to be exonerated, I quickly fled the scene. Eventually Mrs. W calmed down a bit and let the younger brother off the hook, but it was a pretty frosty day and a quiet drive home.

That was the last time I ever saw LW. My mom suspected we grew apart due to the distance, or that LW’s religious parents were unimpressed by my parents’ divorce a year or so later. But I know that, eventually, Mrs. W figured out the whole toilet paper situation, and I was branded as a wasteful waster for life.

I’ve carried the guilt around with me ever since. Every time there is no Kleenex in the bathroom, and I have to use a piece of toilet paper to blow my nose, I’m careful to a) use a very small piece and b) flush it, so there is no evidence. Both my mom and Sir Monkeypants’ mom don’t keep a tissue box in their bathroom, so it was a weekend full of clandestine activities!